


Evil Supercomputers and Other Sources of Teen Angst

by milesawayfromthevoid



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: All Ur Faves Are Trans, Also the world needs more Christine Canigula and I'm here to deliver, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Behind the Scenes, F/M, First few Chaps are probs gonna be Michael-focused tbh, I swear I love Jeremy but I need to show that he's being affected by the Squip you know?, Jeremy is a digital dingus but dw he's gonna snap out of it soon, M/M, P much mostly bonding & friendship till "voices in my head", Probably more characters on the way, Trans Christine, Trans Michael, Trans Rich, really slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-11-18 02:37:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11282016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milesawayfromthevoid/pseuds/milesawayfromthevoid
Summary: "Ask your buddy. Anti-social headphones kid? He’s been by like, a ton, by the way. What is he, your boyfriend? No judgment. Just curious. Totally bi now."Alternate Title: Boys Bond Over Mutual Loss of BFFs in the ICU





	1. TFW Your Life is so Bad Right Now That You're Looking Forward to a Test

**Author's Note:**

> [EDIT: So guess who realized he made some really obvious typos last night?? This boy! So while I was fixing it I decided I really didn't like the pacing of the chapter and tried to fix it? Idk how that turned out, but this chapter is a little bit different from what I originally uploaded (for one, I figured out how to indent paragraphs!!). Anyway, please let me know if you have any criticisms or what you think, I'm still fairly new to this and I really want to get better.] 
> 
> So I'm not entirely sure what the timeline for the musical is, but I like to think that there's like 2-3 days for shit to hit the fan between the party and the play. I was also wondering how Rich got de-Squipped, because while I think that the fire might have weakened it, I don't fully believe that its gone just from that. I also kinda wished that he and Michael established a rapport, because I felt like they felt like ostensibly, their respective best friends were gone forever now. So from those musings came this mess.  
> 

When Michael rolled out of bed that Monday, two days after the party, he was tempted to just stay home. He pretty much just stayed in bed the day before, aside from changing in and out of a binder, grabbing a bowl of instant soup and reassuring his parents he was fine. He hadn’t missed too many days of school so far, and considered “best and only friend brutally crushing heart with a ghost of a lingering hangover” a reasonable excuse to call in sick. 

After a cursory glance to his backpack and the neglected textbook peeking out of it, he groaned. Right, History test today. His teacher was unfairly strict when it came to missing tests and, while he wasn’t exactly floundering, he really didn’t feel like getting a zero just because Jeremy decided to be a digital prick. Luckily for him, the period fell right before lunch and he had no qualms about missing Math or English, the only two classes afterwards. 

Besides, now that his best -- _ex-best_ friend was off replacing him with someone _“cooler”_ , probably someone who had newer taste in music and fashion and who didn’t know how Jeremy liked his pizza and wouldn’t stay up till three in the morning sending each other the same meme over and over and who didn’t cry in the bathroom when their best friend called them a loser because he’d never have felt what it’s like to be a loser and _crap_ , his eyes were starting to get misty again. 

Miserable, he forced himself to take some deep breaths, heading to the bathroom to splash water on his face. _Focus on History, not your history_ , he told himself. _You can skip after the test. Pull all the stops at Seven-Eleven; sushi, Slushie, and more._ He combed his hair, brushed his teeth, wiped his glasses, all those little details that he normally wasn’t so meticulous about. With one last glance to the mirror, he straightened his hoodie and gave a little, somewhat forced, smile. 

_And if Jeremy sees you before you go, maybe he’ll realize just how much he’s missing out on._

~ 

Jeremy did not, apparently, see him before he went, nor did he realize just how much he was missing out on. 

The universe must have decided it hated Michael Mell because not only did it flaunt a cool, collected, and crappily dressed Jeremy Heere right in front of his face every time he turned a corner, it was like Michael didn’t even _exist_ to him. No glances, no “excuse me” as he brushed past him a few times, fuck, he didn’t even have the decency to look down and avoid his gaze! He just stared through him like...well, like Michael didn’t even exist, all the while chatting with Jake Dillinger or Dustin Kropp or whoever it happened to be on this round of “Michael’s Personal Hell.” Even _Jake_ , who had barely acknowledged his existence beyond “that headphone’s kid who Rich occasionally tormented alongside Jeremy,” who was in crutches and looked his he hadn’t slept since that Saturday, had stopped to see if he was okay after a particularly brisk Jeremy knocked the books out of his hands and continued to his Chem class. 

“Sorry, dude,” he said, sincerely enough. “You’re kinda easy to miss.” 

Michael had to pat himself on the back for how he was handling this entire situation, though. If Jeremy was doing this to torment him, Michael wasn’t giving him the reaction he probably hoped for. Aside from the occasional side-glances to see if anything changed, and maybe a bit of misty eyes when Jake turned to him but his ex-best friend of twelve years didn’t, he was great! Just as stony! Totally not on the verge of tears! Totally not counting down the minutes until he could just take that stupid test and waltz out of there for a mourning Slushie and a few rounds of a retro game. Something Jeremy never touched. Maybe Space Invaders, they only played it once together and quit because Jeremy wanted to play PacMan. Good plan. Great plan. Nice work, Mell.

When History class finally started, the test passed by a bit too quickly. He was able to pull up the answers easily enough at first, but towards the end his mind wandered back to the bathroom, and focusing on world history as opposed to his own history became a challenge. 

_"It’s...off,"_ he could almost hear Jeremy say, and he had to shake his head. 

_Multiple choice, Mell_ , he told himself. _Focus. Only fifteen minutes left till you can go. Now, is it A or D?_

 _"And here I thought_ Chloe _was jealous."_

Mortified, he saw wet spots appear on the paper beneath him. He rubbed his eyes viciously, wracking his brain for the name of the guy who invented the printing press and pushing his emotions to the corner. 

_"Move it."_

Thankfully, there were only two long-answer questions instead of the usual three. He didn’t really focus on what he was writing, just reciting the Renaissance facts he could remember over the drone of his best friend abandoning him. His breath was hitching and he felt a familiar soreness in his ribs. Shit, could something go right for him today? 

_"Get out of my way._ Loser."

He almost didn’t finish the last question and had to hurriedly continue writing as he was handing it in, much to the displeasure of Ms. Duke. He hoped she’d take pity on his hunched shoulders and pitifully red, puffy eyes, but he ended up getting the “pace yourself, don’t dwell on questions you don’t know for too long, in college you finish when it’s pencils down” speech anyway. He nodded through it, sweeping his pencils into his bag and trying to just make a beeline for the bathroom, get out of his binder and ditch this cursed school. 

~ 

Here’s the thing about Michael’s binder: second to his hoodie, it was the most comforting article of clothing he owned. He didn’t always wear it, but when he did he felt safe. His dysphoria would ebb away somewhat as his boobs would virtually disappear under his hoodie. It was like getting a hug that simultaneously hid your least favourite body parts. Sure, he had days where he felt good with his chest, where he didn’t really feel like binding was necessary, but when he did wear the binder, he just felt secure. Taking it off was always unpleasant, making him feel visible in ways he wasn’t comfortable with. 

He could breathe a little easier with a sports bra, but there was still a weight in his chest and a tightness in his throat as he picked up a few books from his locker and made his way to the main office. The only good thing that came out of this nightmare day was that he as able to channel that discomfort and the prior emotional distress into a believable flu-related excuse for the secretary, who let him go home after a quick call to his parents. He couldn’t climb into his car fast enough, the familiar aroma of weed and pine-scented air-fresheners grounding him until he could reach the concrete safe haven of Seven-Eleven. The promise of a sweet, icy, blue raspberry and cherry Slushie was enough to lift his spirits. 

As he pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the convenience store, though, he had to take a minute to just breathe and dislodge the familiar tightness in his throat. As he fished for his wallet, his eyes started to sting and he forced his mind to go to happier places.

“I got this,” he muttered to himself, while his vision became blurry and his wallet was still nowhere to be found. “Things are going to get better. What’s one and a half more years of high school without him? Nothing, that’s what! It’s not like he was my rock where everyone else basically ignored me or actively avoided me! It’s not like he was the only person to show me kindness! It’s not like now I’m all alone in this shitty school and...crap, _fuck_ , stop crying.”

He shoved his glasses up, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes and just focusing on breathing. Crap, this was pathetic. Shame at his behaviour and anger that this was affecting him so much bubbled to the surface, mixing in with the sadness and rooting him to his car. At this point, he wasn’t even sure a Slushie, the ambrosia of the gods and fixer of all sorrows, would help things. He was overwhelmed with the want to just drive home, curl up and get stoned off his ass and pass out for the night. Wallowing in self-pity wasn’t ideal, but nothing else was working at this point and he didn’t want to stay miserable forever. He heard somewhere that feeling shit and letting it go was easier than bottling it up and trying to fight it off. 

With this new plan in mind, he switched the ignition on and shifted into reverse. Just as he was about to back out, though, he was startled by his phone buzzing repeatedly in his hoodie pocket. It was enough to knock him out of his bubble of loneliness. He considered ignoring it, but the possibility of it being important compelled him to put the car back in park. When he checked it, though, he noticed that the number wasn’t his mom’s, as he’d been expecting, or Jeremy’s, as he’s been hoping. In fact, he didn’t recognize it at all, save for the local area code. He was suspicious, but curiosity and a twinge of dread won over in the end. He swiped the green button and picked up. 

“Hello?” he croaked, then promptly winced. He cleared his throat quickly and tried again. “Uh, hi?”

“Uh, hey! You’re the kid who hangs out with Jeremy all the time, right?” the voice was strained, and it echoed slightly, like the person calling was were on speaker. Michael could make out beeps and hums in the background. 

“Michael, actually. Who is this?” Michael didn’t bother to correct about Jeremy, more unnerved by whoever was calling.

“Oh! Shit, right, sorry I probably freaked you out. This is Rich? You know, from school?”

“Rich? Are you okay? I heard you’re in the hospital.”

“I’m okay for now, but my pain meds are wearing off and it’s really not fun. In fact they’re kinda getting weaker, which is why I’m calling you.”

Michael leaned back into his seat, turning off the ignition. Confusion and suspicion arose, but he decided to continue on with the conversation anyway. “Uh, can I ask why?”

“Sure, no problem, but first off, sorry for being a colossal prick and treating you like human garbage. I promise I can explain why later, but it was still shitty of me and I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that.” 

“Uh, okay? It’s -- ” Michael started, confused and wary, but was cut off by a pained sound from Rich. “Dude, seriously, if you’re not okay maybe we can talk later?”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, just -- I heard about this hook-up at the mall you had the other day --”

“Look, if this is about the _Squip_ , you can forget about it,” Michael snapped. He wasn’t expecting it, but the thought of his high school tormenter trying to bring up the pill-sized friendship destroyer turned his sad shitty mood into a pissed shitty mood.

“No!” The answer was quick and loud. “Well, sorta, but not in the way you think, I swear! I heard you buy old soda there, is that true?”

Still a bit defensive, but intrigued, Michael gave a casual, “Yeah, and?”

“Do you know if they sell Mountain Dew Red? The one from the nineties, not the Code Red stuff.”

“Yeah, I think I saw a few bottles left last time, why?”

“Oh, thank -- shit, _fuck_! Okay, listen, can you please do me a favour, get a bottle and bring it to Beth Israel ICU, okay? Ask for me, I’m allowed visitors. I promise I’ll pay you back every cent the soda’s worth and explain _everything_ after, just please do this for me.” 

Michael thought about it. If Rich asked this of him a few days ago, he’d think he was being set up for a prank. Somehow, it would end up biting him in the ass. But he sounded honestly, frighteningly desperate, and Michael didn’t feel great about leaving people in trouble hanging. Besides, at least his budding curiosity at the situation would help him take his mind off of his current, friendless life. He reached for the ignition again, switching it on.

“Yeah, sure. See you later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a guy who has had more than his fair share of "Michael in the Bathroom" moments & is very chest-dysphoric, this chapter was actually super venty? Whoops.  
> Anyway, please let me know what you think in the comments, I live for feedback and ways to improve! Thanks for reading!


	2. Consult The Nurse Before Shutting Down Quantum Nanotechnology CPU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Michael learns how to turn off Squips. Does it count as research if your ex-bully tells you upfront?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (EDIT: I'm summing up my previous "Notes"-thing because it was a monstrosity of a paragraph. I'm gonna try & keep it shorter from now on) I know less than zero about ICU care & even less about American ICU care so this may not be fully accurate? As far as I know this could take place in the Real World, but if there's anything that's obviously wrong, please let me know! 
> 
> Also, rough approximation of the timeline, at least my hc of it:  
> \- Saturday night: Party happens, shit goes down  
> \- Monday -- Thursday: Michael visits Rich in the Hospital, slowly a friendship is born on mutual sense of loss of friendship and uncertainty of future  
> \- Friday: Opening night of the play, shit goes down  
> \- Sat 2.0: [No spoilers]  
> This seems a lot more natural to me; I get that the musical probs wanted it to be a lot more fast-paced, but tbh I want more time to devel Michael and Rich's friendship & be able to see how Christine is doing post-party-pre-play, and also _maybe_ check in on Jeremy. So, at least in this fic, expect a few days before the Squip attempts to take over the school.

The guy at Spencer’s was more than happy to part with the remaining bottles of Mountain Dew Red. With the newer popularity of Code Red, the last few bottles weren’t selling as much as the latest shipment of Crystal Pepsi. Even Michael had to admit, he’d rather save a few bucks for the Pepsi than shell it out for a soda with a reasonably similar, much less pricy counterpart. Still, there are worse things to buy than vintage soda, and if Rich is somehow going to bully him from a hospital bed, at least he’d have something to wash the humiliation down with later.

Speaking of the recent arsonist, he wasn’t looking so… well, hot ( _I can’t believe I’m sinking to puns for humour_ , Michael thought mournfully. _Also, time and place, Michael._ ). Admittedly, Rich looked better than the rumours let on -- the worst of which included a melted head, body bags, fleeing to the forest to hang out with the Jersey Devil due to his horrific scars, etc. -- but in addition to the full body cast, multiple wires and monitors, and IV drips, he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks and he was a lot paler than usual. Dimly, Michael could remember noticing that Rich didn’t look so great at the party either, and that looked much more twitchy and panicked than a guy holding a solo cup normally did. Rich, at the moment that Michael entered, was staring off to a blank spot on the wall, non-casted fingers twitching around a blue button. His face was carefully blank, but fear was present in his eyes and his lips were caught between his teeth. 

_Jesus,_ Michael thought. _What the hell happened to him?_

Michael coughed to get his attention, and Rich snapped his head towards him. His face melted into relief, and Michael’s confusion grew even more. 

“Michael! Hey!” Rich said, voice a touch too loud to be natural. He kept glancing frantically to the Spencer’s Gifts bag. “Have a seat!” He jerked his chin towards the chair next to his bed. 

Michael did so, scooting the chair a bit closer. He noticed that the room was awfully empty, considering that Rich had already been here for a day and a half. The only thing that didn’t seem to belong to the hospital was his phone, which seemed to have been damaged by the fire. Michael expected more, since Rich seemed to be in here for at least a week or two. While looking around, he eyed the chart across from his bed. _Nutrition monitored -- Small meals, 6x/day. Limit fluids between meals_ was written in the “Dietary Restrictions” column. Rich followed his gaze and winced. “So...soda, huh?”

Rich took a steadying breath. “I wouldn’t ask for this if it wasn’t important. .” 

“Just -- look, dude, this seems pretty sketchy to me,” Michael said. “You call me out of nowhere, you ask me for out-of-date soda, which like, not even sure you’re allowed to be drinking that while recovering in the hospital, and I’m not supposed to question it because it’s ‘important’? What the hell is actually going on here? And how is it related to the Squip?”

“Okay, okay, just -- check the door, make sure there isn’t anybody there. This isn’t something I want others overhearing.” Michael followed his instructions, then sat back down and leaned in close. 

“Well?” He asked, exasperated. 

“This is … gonna be difficult to say. As in, I’m not sure how much I can say before it stops me. I’m sorry that I’ve been acting so shitty to you for the past year or so, it basically told me that you and Jeremy were easy targets and in order to be cooler I needed to pick on you sometimes. I shouldn’t have listened, though, and I’m sorry for what I’ve done. And I’ve had it! I thought it was impossible, but right now, I’m trying to -- ” After this steady, if a bit rushed, stream of words, Rich’s jaw clamped shut and his gaze flickering back to that blank spot on the wall. Michael’s mind supplied a similar look that happened barely two weeks ago.

_"Jeremy? Why are you standing there all creepy and stuff?"_

“Is,” Michael started slowly, catching Rich’s attention again. “Is ‘it’ the Squip?” 

Rich gave a quick, tense nod. His fingers, previously fluttering on the blue button on the side of his bed, pressed down quickly and he relaxed somewhat. 

“So… if green Mountain Dew turns it on, red shuts it off?” Michael reached inside the bag, producing the bottle of soda. Rich was quiet and unfocused for awhile, seeming to be regaining his bearings. 

“Yeah,” he eventually said. His words came out a bit more slurred and slow. “Alcohol, pain meds, stuff like that, it scrambles it for awhile, but Mountain Dew Red is the only way to really get turn it off. My Squip tried to cover it, but I remember talking to the guy who recommended it to me.”

“And you’re sure it’s really that simple? I heard from a guy I know that his brother went crazy trying to get it out. What if it’s just tricking you?” 

“At this point, I’ll try anything. I guess it makes sense? ‘Cause it’s discontinued and stuff. Plus, getting the soda didn’t seem so simple, since nobody’s sold it since the nineties. I’m lucky that you knew that guy, otherwise I’d have no idea where to look for it before it started taking over again.” 

Michael set the soda down on the nightstand, the two of them staring at it for a minute. Michael considered taking a swig to see if it was still good, despite it’s expiration date, but thought better of it. He had expired soda all the time and nothing bad happened, and besides, if he happened to be sick, he didn’t want to transfer it to Rich, who was already in bad shape. Still… 

“It’s like, safe, right?” Michael asked. “Like, turning it off? It’s not going to cause any internal bleeding or something?”

“I mean, it should be safe,” Rich’s said, tone uncertain and eyes still on the bottle. “I mean, it hurt like hell for a minute when I turned it on, but if this is how the developers meant to turn it off, then it shouldn’t be too different. Worse comes to worse, at least I’m already in the hospital?” 

“Yeah, true,” Michael said. “Well, uh...do you need help drinking?” 

“Yeah, just like, hold the bottle up. It probably shouldn’t take too much of the Mountain Dew to get rid of it. Just like, hurry, I don’t know how quick it’ll work through my pain meds and it isn’t exactly fond of this plan. Oh, and don’t spill it. I really don’t want to deal with soda in my cast.” 

Michael rolled his eyes at the obvious request, lifting the bottle to Rich’s lips and tipping it slightly. When he pulled the bottle away, Rich swallowed, and both boys waiting in anticipation for a reaction. 

“...well?” Michael asked. “Do you feel any different?” 

Rich furrowed his brows. “Not really, just kinda --” He didn’t end up finishing that thought, instead pulling his head back as far as it would go in the cast and screaming. His fingers clenched tightly around the plaster of the cast, eyes screwed shut against what seemed to be immense pain in his head. Panicking, Michael ran around the bed and pressed the nurse call button, ready to bolt to the front desk if they didn’t show up immediately. Within a moment, though, Rich fell silent, slumping in his bed. Michael cautiously stepped forward, pressing his fingers to Rich’s neck. Fortunately, he had a pulse. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to be waking up anytime soon.

~

Two nurses arrived shortly after, finding Michael in a panicked state. While one checked Rich’s vitals, the other tried to calm him down and ask what had happened. The most Michael could give was a stammered response about the Mountain Dew, how he was scared for the state of Rich’s brain, do you have to do a scan or something, and eventually the nurse asked him to wait outside while they called the doctor, promising to keep him posted about what happened. 

In the meantime, Michael worried. He wasn’t exactly close to Rich, if the last year or so of teasing and occasional property defacement were anything to go on, but that didn’t mean he wanted him to die or anything, especially not if it was his fault. He started to panic as images of funerals and permanent vegetative states flooded his brain, fueling him with anxiety and dread as forty minutes crawled by without any word from the doctor or nurses. 

When the doctor _finally_ came out, Michael took it as a good sign that she didn’t look upset or worried. Instead, she looked calm, naturally calm, not “I have grave news but I need to stay collected for the patient’s sake” calm. The type of calm that Michael most certainly was not right now. 

“The nurse said that you mentioned a potential brain injury, and we were able to check his motor, eye and verbal responses about five minutes ago, when he woke up. He wasn’t quite lucid, but he seems to be alright for now. We’re going to monitor him for the rest of today. We might have to perform a CT scan on him if he doesn’t improve, but it doesn’t look likely.” She glanced down to her clipboard, furrowed her brows, then looked back up at Michael. “You said that he drank that soda before he had that episode, right?”

“Yeah,” Michael answered. “The Mountain Dew. Is it, like, interfering with anything or something?”

“We’re...not really sure. I’ve checked his allergies and his list of medications, neither of which indicate the reaction that he’s had. We’ve taken a blood sample of his to the lab, and we should get an answer in an hour or so. I noticed that the soda was out-of-date, though, which may explain something.” She looked at Michael, not unkindly but definitely expecting an answer to the unspoken “why.” Michael shifted under her gaze. 

“I’m sorry, I should have checked before. He, uh, mentioned craving some when he called me, and I drink it all the time, usually it isn’t really a problem…”

The doctor placed a dark, comforting hand on his shoulder. “I understand, you didn’t want to hurt your friend. Hopefully, if the blood test and monitoring go well, it’ll turn out to be nothing. Still, for future reference, he’s going to have to lay off the soda until he leaves the ICU, alright? Stick to the dietitian's orders.” 

Michael nodded, not mentioning that before the Mountain Dew Incident, he intended for it to be a one-off visit. She seemed satisfied by this, and offered to have someone call him tomorrow during his lunch break to inform him about Rich’s condition. Michael accepted, leaving his number at the front desk. Maybe he just felt bad due to the emptiness in his room, for his role in his current state, or just felt sorry for Rich in general. Maybe he just missed talking to someone. Maybe he didn’t want to just keep thinking about Jeremy anymore. In any case, he figured he’d visit again tomorrow, just to check up on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Rich would recover a lot faster than Jeremy immediately after deactivating it, seeing as how he already weakened it with pain-meds and it wasn't in the process of taking over the whole school? Idk, just hc I guess. Imo, the recovery period is gonna be tougher for him though, since he was reliant on it for so long, but if the Squip Squad becomes a thing then he'll have a support network at least. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and sticking around so far! Please comment and let me know what you thought, I live for feedback of any kind! While Kudos is really appreciated, comments help keep me motivated and help me make better stories, so if you have anything to say please do! Even (heck, maybe even especially) negative stuff, dw I can handle it.
> 
> (EDIT: Wow, I will never be satisfied with this chapter. Anyway, chapters 3 & 4 are on their way, just 3 doesn't want to be finished.)


	3. Texting Interlude, or The Force Awakens Kick-Started a Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I invalidate the alternate title by making them bond over lost best friends via texting, not physically in the ICU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've never really done this texting-as-dialogue thing before? I hope it works out alright.  
> Also, geez, when I said it was going to be Michael-centric for the first few chapters, I didn't expect it to be this long. Next chapter, we're getting a fresh face on the scene. Maybe a few. Still working Chapter 4 out.

By the time Michael got home, it was barely three in the afternoon, although it felt like it was much later. The nervous energy that consumed him at the hospital had worn off by the time he pulled into the driveway, so the first thing he did was heat up some leftover mac and cheese from the night before, grab a bag of chips and can of Crystal Pepsi from the garage, and head down to the basement. 

He set his late lunch onto the desk, pushing aside his heavy laptop and the plethora of scrawled Post-Its to make room. Before the party, he had spent hours after school scouring forums, messaging boards, Japanese tech articles, anything that might have a shred of information on the Squip. He had only managed to get hearsay, rumours, scraps of tangential or anecdotal evidence that basically amounted to “Squips _might_ exist.” The closest he had gotten was that friend he played Warcraft with, who wasn’t able to say much else on his brother than what he relayed to Jeremy. Michael made a note to pass along the information about the Mountain Dew Red next time he was online, although it wasn’t as often as it used to be. 

He closed the other windows and pulled up a folder full of retro movies. He scrolled through the list a few times, eventually settling on the first one. He idly thumbed the Post-Its within reach, mulling over whether he should just throw them out while the film played out softly in the background, the opening scene trying in vain to catch his wandering mind. After a minute of mental debate, he just stacked them up, smoothing the adhesive bits over each other, and shoving them into a desk drawer. He ate and watched restlessly, unable to appreciate the movie like he usually did with everything that happened that day on his mind. Eventually, he gave up with a groan, slumping into the comfortably worn old couch and setting up his Namcom collection. Trading his troubled thoughts with hand-eye coordination with Space Invaders was easy, although the restless feeling in his chest remained, and before he knew it the sun had set and he heard his parents coming in. He turned off the game and went upstairs to help set up dinner.

~

Dinner was blessedly uneventful. His parents didn’t comment much on Jeremy’s absence or his sour mood, although he could tell it was on their minds. He was able to wave both off as his recent “stomach flu,” and thankfully switch the conversation to his mother’s coworker from Hell. As he was helping to clear the dishes later on, he felt the telltale buzz of his phone in his hoodie pocket. 

After placing the plates under the running tap water, he checked his messages. For a half-second, a twinge of hope re-surfaced. Maybe it was Jeremy, asking for helping, pleading an apology, or just saying _something_. 

Instead, it was from that now recognizable string of numbers. Rich. 

The notification cut the message down the middle, but Michael felt relief when he saw that it seemed pretty upbeat, containing a _“hey!!”_ and _“I’m doing fine”_ as opposed to an _“I’ve died from brain hemorrhaging and it’s your fault, seriously what’s your damage, messing with freaky science-fiction technology while I’m lying prone in the ICU.”_ He unlocked his phone to check out the message in it’s entirety, feeling the little ball of nerves building up in his chest unwind and release him from it’s clammy, panicky grip as he read over the message. 

**(551…): Hey!! Rich again! Just wanted to say hi & also I’m doing fine (they just let me have my phone privileges back now lmao) Thanks for helping me out, idk if I would’ve had another chance to get rid of it. But yeah, thank you so so much for bringing the Dew, w/o it I’d probs be mega dead???**

Michael decided to make Rich a contact while he thought over a reply. How do you respond to freeing a guy who used to pick on you from a Tic-Tac sized supercomputer? After a minute, he tapped out a text he felt adequately satisfied with.

**(Me): hey dude! i’m really glad to hear that, i was worried you were a goner for a sec! seriously don’t even mention it, you looked and sounded like you needed the help. speaking of, how are you doing?**

Rich was taking his time with the reply, so he pocketed the phone again and began loading the dishwasher. His mom had caught him typing, though, and asked, “Were you talking to Jeremy?”

“Uh, no,” he said, keeping his eyes on the cutlery compartment. “It was someone in my English class. He was asking me about our essay.”

She hummed thoughtfully, and when Michael glanced back he noticed she was staring at him as she stacked the tupperwares full of leftovers into the fridge. “Is everything good between you two?”

“Yeah,” he lied. “Everything is fine, why?”

“It’s just,” she seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “You didn’t talk about him as much as you normally do, and when you spent the whole day in your room on Sunday…Your dad and I wanted to know, did something happen on Saturday?”

There was a fearful moment when he thought she knew about the party, but then remembered his alibi for the night. Going to see a movie with Jeremy. Right. 

“We…” he started. Oh fuck it. Might as well tell as close to the truth as possible. “He seemed distant lately, so after the movie I kinda confronted him about it and it...didn’t end well.”

His mom gave him a sympathetic look, pulling him into a hug. “Oh, Michael. Don’t worry, I’m sure you two can fix things. He’s probably just got things on his mind.”

 _Yeah, he does have things on his mind_ , he thought bitterly, _but it’s gonna be hard to fix things when he literally ignores my existence_. 

“Yeah,” he ended up saying, trying not to sound bitter. “Yeah, we probably will. Thanks, mom.”

~

Rich’s reply eventually came after he and his mother finished up the dishes, while he was willing himself to focus on his Chem homework. It was a welcome break; he was stuck on the wording of one question, which seemed to imply one formula but employed a different one in the answer key, and he was close to just giving up and switching to his Physics homework. Instead, he pulled up his phone.

**(Rich): Sorry late reply, it’s super hard to type rn & the dinner came & wow is that slow when you’re unable to properly move your arms. I’m doing….okay?? Like the world hasn’t ended like IT said it would & my brain doesn’t feel like it’s being sawed in half anymore, so there’s that @ least? Still it’s. Weird. Idk like imagine a part of yourself just disappearing. I’m a little freaked tbh, not sure what happens now that its gone**

Michael put down his pencil, turning his focus entirely to the conversation. 

**(Me): shit, dude, i can’t even imagine, sorry you’re going through that**

While waiting for a reply, Michael just set aside his Chem homework. Might as well go to the tutorial during lunch tomorrow, maybe his teacher messed up in the answer key. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait too long this time. 

**(Rich): Don’t be, tbh like...hindsight, I shouldn’t have taken it in the first place. Besides, it was malfunctioning anyway. Just. New feeling, you know?**

**(Me): here’s hoping it’s for the best.**

**(Me): also, malfunctioning? is it cool if i ask what you mean?**

**(Rich): Yeah, same here. Uhh sure, no prob. It was just like...like, about this summer-ish, it started being more...like ok this is hard to explain, but it sounded like it was wasn’t focusing on the situation @ hand.**

**(Rich): Like it would be suggesting rlly out there stuff or it would start mentioning names of kids @ our school who I don’t really talk to like I usually do?**

**(Rich): Like it would be all “tell Kyle you’ll meet him for lunch tomorrow” and I’d be all “uh?? I have not spoken to Kyle outside of Drama wtaf?”**

**(Rich): But that was like, ok w/e I could live with the bugs. Where it got really bad was when it started to take control of my body for like 0 reason.**

**(Rich): Like, before it would be like, “you’re floundering, I’m gonna talk thru you” & it sucked & was really not fun but @ least there was a point, you know?? But there were a few times where it would just like grab control of my body while like, walking or smthng & it was really weird. So like a week ago, a few days after Jeremy hooks me up to his squid & I get even more imput I’m like, ok this isn’t happening anymore, how do I fix?**

**(Rich): *Squip sorry I’m relying on autocorrect & apparently it “doesn’t exist” ;/**

**(Rich): (If I could move my hands more, I’d be doing heavy quotation fingers rn)**

**(Rich): & I started asking around, but it got like, super defensive & started to fuck with my train of thought I think? Like I legit don’t remember the entirety of last Friday after 3rd period, afaik it would legit derail me every time I thought about getting rid of it. I ended getting shitfaced Sat morning & calling the guy who recommended it to me in the first place &**

**(Rich): It really really really really did not like that I knew that, bc the party was basically me vs the squip for control of my body. Idk if anyone told you but it was not pretty haha**

**(Me): geez, that sounds fucking awful. also i was at the party for a bit but i left early and didn’t hear much on it today**

**(Rich): Oh srsly?? I figured it was the talk of the school, Jenna made like, 500 tweets about it**

**(Me): to be fair i don’t have a twitter**

**(Me): & also i skipped school at lunch lmao**

**(Rich): Ahh k, so you’re not a Reliable Source™**

**(Me): sorry to disappoint haha. maybe jake would be able to give you a feel for the school gossip?**

The pause after this message was longer than the others. Michael anticipated a longer paragraph as a response, but after viewing what he had received he knew he must have touched a sensitive issue. 

**(Rich): Uhh probably not tbh I dont think he wants 2 talk 2 me rn seeing as I burned down his house**

**(Me): oh fuck right. sorry dude**

**(Rich): W/e, you didn’t do anything. Just like, i fucked up my best friends house & life probably. How the fuck do I make up for that?**

**(Me): maybe you can talk to him? i’m sure he’d listen to you**

**(Rich): Yeah I just**

**(Rich): I’m really scared about how he’s gonna react? Like I deserve it but I just don’t want to lose him, you know? He’s been my only friend through high school**

**(Me): if it helps, he doesn’t seem that angry, mostly just worried and lonely and stuff**

**(Me): plus he's talking to jeremy and wasn't there something between him and chloe or whatever? & you were a lot closer to him than jeremy**

**(Rich): I’d have to check with Jenna, I don't remember a lot about that thing w Chloe**

**(Rich): Still, there's a huge diff btw what I did & what he did**

**(Me): idk i’m just saying give it a shot. i can't speak for jake but maybe it’ll help**

**(Me): worse comes to worse you’ll be able to give him closure**

**(Rich): Thanks. You’re right I'll give him time for now**

**(Rich): Hbu u & Jeremy?**

Michael had expected the question, but he still hadn’t formed a decent answer. For a brief moment of weakness, he half-considered giving Rich the whole, sad truth, how Jeremy had sailed off to bigger and better places and left Michael stranded. How he skipped school that day because he was so pathetically upset that he couldn’t stand being in the same building as him, and only ended up going because he wouldn’t be able to retake a stupid test without something like a doctor's note for the plague. How he was so alone right now that he was turning to the guy who teased him endlessly during Sophomore year just because he was the only person who’d give him the time of day.

Then he remembered that he didn’t owe Rich any of that info, considering they only really started to talk six hours ago, and telling him wouldn’t give him any social points. He settled for brevity. 

**(Me): yeah that’s not happening anymore**

**(Rich): Wym?? U guys were like 2 nerds in a pod??**

**(Me): haha >:I**

**(Me): but yeah, basically squip > me**

**(Rich): Oh shit, sorry**

**(Me): don’t be. he’s happy, i dont give a shit**

**(Rich): Well, if you wanna talk about it?**

**(Me): thanks but not much else to say**

**(Rich): Ok**

**(Rich): Sorry I brought it up, if you want we can talk about something else?**

A beat. Did Michael want to keep talking? He glanced at his abandoned homework, his empty notifications bar, his quieter than usual room, then gave a resigned sigh. Why not? 

**(Me): sure**

**(Me): are you excited for the new star wars movie?**

**(Rich): Hell yes!!! It looks so sick!!!!**

**(Rich): Tbh I never really saw the first few movies so when I first heard about this one I was like hmm bc tbh the fandom kinda seems intense & also the last few movies were ehhhhokay, but when I saw the trailers I was like “!!! this looks rad!!!!” **

**(Me): you never saw the original trilogy what??**

**(Rich): Nah never really got the chance? Like when I eventually grew old enough to get tired of Disney I was into whatever was playing @ the time & my dad was never into the SW series, & it seems long & complicated? @ least taking the newer ones into account**

**(Me): ok ok i swear they’re actually really really good, the newer ones are a bad comparison to the originals**

**(Me): like apples & oranges honestly, if apples were meaningfully well-written and produced films and oranges were badly-written cash-ins**

**(Rich): Oh ok so what’s it about?**

**(Rich): All I know is that it takes place in the future-past of space and there’re rad light-swords & a princess with hair buns & a green Muppet dude & a robo-dad**

**(Me): sorta! the premise is that it’s a different galaxy than our own, which i guess perfected space travel & established trade & stuff**

**(Me): (also i talk a lot about star wars so stop me if i start to rant)**

**(Me): but the problem is that the galaxy is under the thumb of this oppressive empire & there’s a faction that’s trying to beat it**

**(Me): which is where Princess Leia (hair buns) comes in**

**(Rich): Whoa, capitalization, sounds important**

**(Me): she actually really is & she’s super cool!**

**(Me): you said you saw the prequels right? do you mind if i talk more about her?**

**(Rich): Yeah, and nah I don’t mind**

**(Me): ok so here’s her deal, from prequels to originals**

Michael spent the rest of the night talking with Rich about Star Wars with as little spoilers as possible, then the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek, then video games (Rich was into more modern first player shooters as opposed to Michael’s preference of retro games, although he seemed really interested in Apocalypse of the Damned), then podcasts, then Rich’s desire to make podcasts, then joking about potential podcast ideas, then just talking about school. It was so good to talk to someone else about things other than Squips that he forgot _who_ he was talking to. It only really occurred to him halfway through that this Squipless Rich Goranski might be someone he wanted to get to know better.

By the time that ten o’clock rolled around and Rich had to say goodbye to avoid getting chewed out by the nurses, Michael felt lighter than he had in awhile. The twisting worry he felt while Jeremy was ignoring him before the party, the betrayal and loneliness he felt after the party, the panic and anxiety he felt after visiting Rich -- almost two weeks of negative emotions rolled off his shoulders for the night. He didn’t realize how exhausted those feelings were making him until his head hit the pillow and his eyelids started to close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk what my style is but I'm rolling with it for now.  
> Thanks for reading and sticking with it for so long! Let me know what you think in the comments!


	4. Enter Christine Canigula, Drama Room Adjacent, With Puns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine wonders what's gotten into Jeremy, gets a few theories, and makes a new friend with the use of zombie puns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first off, disclaimer: I'm a trans boy, so my experiences might not be the same as a trans girl. If I've written anything that's offensive, I'm really sorry, it wasn't my intention, please let me know and I'd be more than happy to fix it.
> 
> Secondly, I recently got my gay little hands on a digital copy of the script and while checking out the stage directions, I noticed something. Christine's part in "The Play" is different in the script than in the song: it was more of a call-back to "I Love Play Rehearsal" than it was to "A Guy I'd Kinda Be Into," & tbh I kinda really wanted to explore that?? So yeah, I'm running with that idea, and the Play scene is probs gonna be really focused on that. 
> 
> Thirdly, I just wanna thank you guys for all the wonderful comments you left me. This is my first multi-chapter fic like, ever, and even though it's really fun it was also daunting at first (heck, it still is now). But the support I've received so far has been really motivating and I want to thank you all for sticking around and commenting. It honestly means a lot to me. 
> 
> Fourth and finally for now, this chapter is splitting "The Pitiful Children" into segments. Jeremy, @ this point, already had the "humans are flawed" chat with the Squip, and during the chapter he'll head to Rich's locker.
> 
> ALSO Before I forget!! I mentioned this on my tumblr but if you're checking this out on July 12, and if you like having an open and free internet, make sure to leave a comment on the FCC page about it. Hell, even if you're checking it out later than today, there are spambots commenting on how the FCC should repeal net neutrality, so your voices matter in this! I saw this post on my dash today so if you can, take a minute to check it out: http://lioness--hart.tumblr.com/post/162869592371/without-exaggeration-the-internet-as-we-know-it . Even if you don't know what to say, you can just copy-paste what others have commented before (just read the comment first and make sure it's one of those "On July 12th we're fighting for Net Neutrality" etc etc comments, not one of the spambots) I'm sorry I'm mentioning it on a fic of all places, but no joke, if we lose net neutrality we lose Ao3 as we know it, amongst many, many other things. Don't let this happen! Speak out if you can! Thanks for listening.

Tuesdays were usually a pretty happy time for Christine. Aside from the delicious double chocolate chip muffins that the cafeteria only ever sold on then and the fact that her favourite podcast about world history and mythology updated that day, play rehearsals also fell then after-school. For those all-too-brief two hours on Tuesdays, Christine could forget her troubles and prove her talent, channel her energy and passion into something certain and creative. It was what kept her going through the week, what kept her from falling into that Monday funk and gave her the energy to face the challenges high school had to offer. It was a recent favourite, but thus far Tuesdays turned out to be a shining beacon in the otherwise soul-draining sea of high school. 

She tried her best to hold onto that feeling for this particular Tuesday, as she sat in front of the cafeteria doors at a small table with Jeremy. Mr. Reyes had purposefully set the table at the most busy entrance in an effort to get the word of the play out as much as possible. It also happened to be right next to the drama room, which helped draw the eye with the posters adorning the door. She and Jeremy had volunteered to sell tickets during the lunches of the week preceding the play, and thus far they'd been moderately successful! Well, it was certainly more than last year, at least. Christine was reluctant to admit it, but it seemed like a modern twist to a classic of the Bard would increase club popularity, and she did like having the Drama club around. Plus, Mr. Reyes had mentioned that if this terms play got enough support, the school might allow another one during the spring, and Christine really hoped that that went through.

But, despite the financial comparison of traditional versus zombified Shakespeare tipping towards the less preferred newer version, the ticket sales weren't what was really bothering her. It was the company. 

On the outside, nothing was wrong. In fact, compared to the more reserved, awkward self that he displayed as recently as two weeks ago, Christine might think that Jeremy was actually having a really good day. He was smiling at everyone who passed them by, making small talk easily, and using his newfound charisma to charm almost everyone who passed by into buying a ticket. 

But Christine knew that Jeremy just wasn't the same since the party. He seemed just a touch more...distant, contemplative. Whenever she saw him before the party, they would fall into conversation as easily as falling into step, talking about anything that came to mind. It was really nice; not a lot of people at school paid Christine much attention when she was off-stage, turned off by her passionate opinions and enthusiastic personality. But with Jeremy, she could be herself. She could get excited about the newest musicals and talk about how she hoped they were still running that summer so she could go up to New York to see them, or how her musical side-blog was getting a lot of attention and her mutuals were all really cool people. She could get angry about things like the lack of adequate gun control, corruption in the legal system, the impact of racism, lack of protection for trans people, especially trans women of colour, and how progressed was received in today’s society (notably with how there was always a force pushing against it), and how she hoped to one day change all that (even if she wasn’t sure how at the moment). She could complain about a ridiculous History assignment from Ms. Duke or get excited about the prospect of another play within the year or get nervous about the uncertainty of the future and she never felt like Jeremy was judging her. And when he opened up, he was a really interesting guy! She could see the twinkle in his eyes when he talked about his favourite movies and games, and how he was actually really interested in his Physics class even though the teacher tried to suck the life out of it, and how he wanted to be a million different things when he grew up but right now he just wanted to enjoy high school. Their talks during play rehearsal, giving each other feedback and (in Christine’s case more than Jeremy’s) offering tips and tricks to remember lines, to improve vocals, to improve their stage presence, had made the already perfect two hours even better. Christine had to admit, Jeremy was really growing on her, and if she didn’t feel so unsure of her future, of who she was meant to be, she would really like to go out with him. He went from someone who she’d like to start talking with, to someone she’d like to be friends with, to someone she’d like to go out with, and they fell into this mutually comfortable, open ease. It was nice for things to be easy, outside of play rehearsal. She longed for that certainty she felt when she chose her name, when she first stepped on stage, that feeling of getting to know a part of yourself, to present itself in how she was supposed to move forward after high school. She thought Jeremy would understand her taking the time to figure herself out. 

Right now, though, he seemed to be weighing his words more than usual, and Christine wondered what was eating at him ( _ha, lunch puns,_ she thought to herself, but it rang more hollow with the...different atmosphere between them). When he was talking, it wasn't that much different from just a few days ago, and he still seemed genuinely interested in what Christine had to say, but the ease wasn't quite there anymore. For Christine, who was used to speaking her mind openly and freely, these pauses made her feel like she was being left out of the loop for some reason, especially after the ease that they had before the end of Saturday night. She had hoped that he was just having a bad Monday when it started the day before, but he seemed fine with Jake and the trend seemed to continue only when he was around her. She was worried that what happened at the party had hurt their friendship, and she really hoped that wasn't the case. Jeremy had really seemed like a nice guy, not...well, one of those “nice guys.” 

She tried to restart the feeble conversation during a lull in students, when the hall was quiet save for the buzz of voices in the caf behind them and the rapid clicking of the pen in her hand. Jeremy’s gaze had just started to turn distant. 

_He looks like...like he’s getting lines from off-stage,_ Christine thought. _Maybe it's the play? Maybe he’s worried? Should I say something about it?_

“So…” she started, relieved when he looked back down to her. “Three days till the big night! How’re you feeling?”

If she hadn’t been going through this for the past two lunches, she might not have noticed the second-long hesitation. But she was, and it only served to add onto her concern. “Pretty chill,” he said, his voice blasé that way that seemed rehearsed. A smile that she couldn't quite place spread across his lips as he continued. “I mean, I can remember my lines and everything, not much else to it.”

“Oh,” she said, unsure of what to say. For some reason, she felt a twist in her chest at that implication, that acting was no big deal. Then again, at their first rehearsal, he effortlessly recited his lines. Was she ever that effortless? Her words felt bathed in that… _envy_? Was she envious of _Jeremy_? “It’s totally okay if you are. I mean, stage-fright and pre-show jitters happen to the best of us!”

He shrugged with that same careful nonchalance, and Christine was struck again with how much he’d changed over the past few days. “I’m not worried,” he said, casually.

Christine opened her mouth the say something, to ask why he was suddenly acting so different, when the loud, high, squeaking noise of a locker opening snapped them both out of the moment. Startled, she just barely caught something change in his eyes before she looked up to the source of the sound.

A kid wearing a red hoodie and chunky headphones was shoving a heavy textbook onto the top shelf, seeming to strain against the small width of the school lockers and the presumed notebooks or papers already there. She couldn't quite make out their expression from where she was sitting, but their back was hunched and their shoulders tucked in, making them seem like they wanted to hide. Their movements were short and rigid, and they seemed awfully focused on whatever was on the top shelf. They practically radiated nervous tension, seeming to want to run, hide, and freeze at the same time. 

Then, their head moved just the _tiniest_ bit, and Christine recognized him. 

She nudged Jeremy, who had turned to look at his phone. She aside the unease and tension that plagued the table not three minutes before for later, more interested in the situation at hand. “Hey, isn't that your friend, Michael?”

Jeremy glanced up for the briefest of moments, then turned to her with a puzzled (and was that annoyance she detected in his eyes?) look. “What’re you talking about?” 

“You know, Michael?” She said, exasperated. “You know, red hoodie with a lot of patches? Always listening to music? You two are practically like...I don't know, like Hermia and Helena pre-almost-elopement?” 

“I have no idea what you're--” 

“ _Best friends_ , Jeremy! You two were inseparable and now you're barely in the same hall together. You _are_ best friends, aren't you?”

“Oh,” he replied, quietly. _Sincerely._ “No, not anymore. Not since the party.” 

Christine felt relief flood through her. Finally, he seemed to be opening up! Maybe that’s why he was so off, breaking it off with your best friend would make anyone a bit distant. The thought made her immediately regret pressing the topic.

“Oh, I'm sorry about that,” she said, and she genuinely meant it. She knew how it felt to lose long, meaningful friendships. “If you want to talk --”

Just like that, though, the moment of openness had disappeared, like a brief second of sunlight being covered once again by an overcast. Jeremy’s eyed became steely and the space between them turned just as cold. 

“Don't be.” His tone was dismissive. “He was...he was holding me down. Focused too much on the past, and I just wanted to move forward.” 

Before she could say anything else, the cafeteria doors opened behind them. Jenna Rolan emerged and was making a beeline for the staircase, chatting animatedly on her phone about a possible cheating situation involving Madeleine on the third floor. Christine only heard the tail-end of it but she assumed it must have been juicy from the way that Jenna was talking. Another thing she noticed was how, while her tone conveyed excitement, she seemed...tired. She wondered briefly if Jenna enjoyed being the school gossip. 

She didn't have much time to ponder this, though, as Jeremy seemed to be struck with an idea. 

“I have to go,” he said, although it didn’t feel like he was specifically talking to Christine. “I have to pick up a thing for Rich.”

“Oh. See you at rehearsal,” she replied.

He flashed her a grin and a wave before he went, and she was struck once again with how different he seemed, how it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Maybe it was the loss of a friendship getting to him. Maybe he was still shaken after the party. Maybe he was still upset that she turned him down. 

Maybe their friendship wouldn’t recover from that. 

A shuffling noise from down the hallway caught her attention and pulled her out of her worsening thoughts. She looked back to Michael, who was still tense, jaw tight even from where she was sitting. Then, he breathed, and it was like his strings were cut. He angled the textbook in his hands just an inch to the right and slotted it easily into his locker, then pulled out a brown paper bag and shut the door. As he walked towards the caf doors, he paused for a second to look at Christine, eyes and small smile apologetic. Christine could feel her expression mirror his. With his free hand he pulled his headphones around his neck.

“So, um…” the words died in his throat, and he cleared it. “So... ‘A Midsummer’s Nightmare About Zombies’?”

She groaned. “We’re trying to branch out, get more people interested in the club.” 

“Well, I’d say it’s working,” he said. “Like they say, what’s a classic without a zombie spinoff?” 

“A classic?”

“A story waiting for the living dead to spice it up, that's what.”

Christine would have groaned again, but saw an opportunity to lighten the mood and ran with it. “Maybe you could say it’s waiting for the living dead to…” she gave a cheesy wink, “... _liven_ it up?”

“Wow,” Michael’s voice was deadpan, but the corners of his lips were twitching upwards. “If this is the type of humour being showcased at the play, consider my interest revoked.”

“Aw, come on Michael!” she stifled a giggle. “I’m sure you’d still be impressed by our _dead-ication!_ ”

“Oh, my God.” 

“We worked really hard on the script! We all stayed behind to -- pfft -- _brain-storm_ ideas!”

“Christine, I’m begging you...”

“Of _corpse_ , if you’re going _tomb_ refuse, you can always stay home in your _living_ room, but I promise it’ll be a -- _scream!_ ”

They were both giggling by now, although Michael still tried to compose himself every few seconds. Then his composure would break and Christine would find that hilarious and they’d start all over again. Eventually, they settled down, forgetting the mutual friend who made their lives that much more complicated. 

“That last one,” he said, still fighting that smile on his face, “wasn’t even that good. I expected more from you, an officially Shakespeare-trained actress.”

“I’m saving the best material for the stage,” she joked, throwing up a pair of finger guns and another wink, receiving a playful eye-roll in return. “Seriously, though,” she continued. “It’s gonna be really fun! If you like zombies, and you’re even mildly interested in Shakespeare -- which, hard not to be, I know -- I guarantee that it'll be a good time. I promise there are minimal puns involved.” 

He picked up a playbill, examining it thoughtfully. “I’ll...” he started, pausing at the casting column. He looked back up at her. “Can I think about it? Do you guys sell tickets at the door?” 

“Sure and sure!” she said. “But if you want them a whole three bucks cheaper, we’re here every lunch till the curtains open!” 

“Well, I’m not too far off,” he said, nodding back to his locker. “Right now, though, I gotta take off to make tutorials. Wish me luck that Mrs. Harding accidentally printed the wrong answer key.”

“Good luck!” Christine said. 

Michael waved as he passed through the caf to the opposite wing, leaving the hallway quiet and empty. Christine sighed after a minute of no students, and pulled out her script from her bag. She already knew her lines and stage directions by heart, but, unlike Jeremy implied, a little review and practice never hurt anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I actually like Jeremy, just for now I want to show that the Squip is affecting the way he's interacting with people. He's gonna get that "holy shit what I'm doing is wrong" epiphany soon, but again, he's in the middle of "The Pitiful Children" right now. I also wanted to show that Christine had feelings for him before the play (bc IMO if she didn't have any before she was literally swept into a supercomputer hivemind, the concept of Jeremy/Christine would really squick me out), and also wanted to build up that script thing I mentioned in the opening notes. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks again for all the support and comments, it really means a lot to me!! Please let me know what you think and thanks for reading and sticking around so far!!


	5. And I Feel Forgiveness And Communication In This Chilis Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally get a glimpse into the mind of the other half of the pair and see how Rich is doing without the Squip & with the weight of his actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was....hooo boy it was a hard one to write. Partially because my work hours got really fucky & I've been having more Bad Brain Days than usual, but like also bc I legit had no clue where to take this story. Seriously, I rewrote it four times, first with Rich, once from Jeremy's POV, twice from Michael's, before settling on Rich again, and even then I had started writing this final definitive chapter like a week ago. I also like have had a lot of conflicting emotions about how to deal with the story in general, which I go into in the end-notes, but like. Suffice to say for now I'm not sure how their dynamic would work as canon stands so I'm gonna focus on friendship & forgiveness for now (I wasn't kidding when I said it's gonna be a slow burn). 
> 
> Still, I'm really sorry for the wait!! I'm gonna try and keep the updates more consistent from now on. 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is basically gonna be my attempt to really start fixing their relationship. If you guys feel like it's not working, please let me know so I can figure out how to continue on from here.
> 
> [EDIT: I forgot a "hadn't" in the first paragraph so p much the entire sentence lost it's meaning. Basically, Rich's dad is the only person still in town. Just noticed it now, sorry for the confusion.]

The nurses were obviously concerned at the lack of visitors for Rich. In the three days that he was here, only Michael bothered to step foot inside the room. His dad apparently did know, since he was the only one of Rich’s emergency contacts who hadn't left town, but he kept his distance from the hospital proper so far. The nurses told him he called on the first day that he called while he was asleep, but as of yet there wasn't another peep from him. That suited Rich just fine: he wouldn't have been ready to deal with that particular confrontation while he had the Squip, let alone without it. The more time he had to figure out just what to say to him, the better.

Aside from the single visit from Michael, he’d been keeping himself busy for the past three days by turning his head slightly to the left to watch the tiny TV, play Tetris on his phone to the best of his limited mobility, or staring at the same as-of-yet unanswered text to Jake.

**(Me): Hey, Jake. I want to talk and apologize for Saturday night and make sure you’re okay. Can I call you?**

He received plenty of texts from other kids at school, asking how he was. All of them, whether spoken or unspoken, were mainly asking why he did it. He, or rather his Squip, answered most of them when he was lucid enough on the first day in, as it refused to let him let go of all the social progress it made since Freshman year. But without it, he neither had the energy nor any idea of what to tell them all. They stopped trickling in that morning, though, so maybe his previous replies were making the rounds. The hospital didn’t have WiFi and he didn’t have data, so his usual social media hangouts were out -- and honestly, he wasn’t sure he’d want to know what people were saying about him, anyway. 

The only other thing he did once the Squip was gone was work around that new gap in his mind. Day one without the Squip was jarring, to say the least, but not in an especially bad way: it mostly felt like there was a gap in his brain, a space where a very big but very damaging piece once was. If felt like he removed a painful splinter, or a rotten tooth. One of the most immediate changes was that his thoughts were clearer and he went on a lot more tangents. Before, the Squip would interrupt him and pull him back into the present whenever the thoughts went against his new, cool persona or when the situation didn’t call for zoning out. Most of the time, it would insist that in order to fit in and pass, he’d need to be loud, take up more space and make his presence known, and “stopping to smell the roses” wouldn’t help in that regard. Without that little voice making him feel constantly watched, Rich just reveled in how much he missed just thinking and enjoying having his mind to himself. 

And what a change that was! If you asked Rich only a few months ago how he’d feel without his Squip, he’d say he’d feel like someone had tossed him back into the ocean after finally getting pulled onto a lifeboat. Sure, it was a shaky lifeboat, a lifeboat that asked him to do really mean and shady shit in order to continue rowing to shore, but it was a lifeboat nonetheless, and the ocean was a cold, lonely place filled with drunk dads and uncaring peers. Without his Squip, he’d be back to that sad, idle Freshman year.

Right now, though? Well, being alone wasn’t exactly fun, but considering his options, he figured he made the right choice. He’d rather be free from that constricting hivemind of artificially made relationships, all based on the digitally aided mutual desire to be cool, to be popular, to be noticed. For the first time in a year and a half, he felt uncertain about the future, about others, about himself, and that feeling was _exhilarating._

~

That’s not to say that the hospital stay wasn’t mind-blowingly lonely, though. 

His roommate had been discharged Sunday afternoon, preventing any conversation that might have occurred post-Squip. The nurses didn’t stick around for long once they had finished checking his vitals or helping him eat, more preoccupied with the less medically stable patients (while there weren’t a lot of patients in the ICU at the time due to the small size of the town, the ones who were in the unit were apparently not doing so well in comparison to Rich. Which, considering what he went through, was impressive -- in its own sad, kinda shitty way). He was watching an old, crappy sci-fi flick on the tiny TV near the bed to keep himself occupied. The volume was low enough to tune out if he wasn’t paying attention or was sleeping or on the off chance that he got a roommate, but it came with subtitles so he could follow along if he chose to. He was mostly just zoning out to the visuals of cardboard acting and hilariously fake lake monster costumes, trying to ignore how quiet and empty the room was without Kermit the Frog telling him what to do. 

It wasn’t exactly working. 

By the time that the credits started rolling around, he noticed that it was around the middle of lunch period at school. He picked up his phone, deciding to text someone before he went out of his mind. Scrolling through his contacts, however, made his stomach twist in nervousness. Aside from the gossip vultures, his three most prospective contacts proved...complicated. 

Jake was...well, any other time, it would be him that Rich would text first, without question. He was really the only person Rich knew and trusted at Middleborough, and not talking to him was killing him. But Rich’s text was still unread and he needed to clear the air before he started texting him casually. Even though his memories were clouded and he honestly wasn’t sure whether he or his Squip set the fire, Jake had no clue about that and for all intents and purposes thought it was Rich. He owed Jake an apology and an explanation, at the very least. Seeing as he wasn't replying, though, he figured with a heavy heart that he really fucked up their friendship. 

Jeremy was next. While he wanted to reach out to Jeremy and see if he was in the same boat, he honestly wasn’t sure how to approach that situation. _“Hey, guess what, I’m in the hospital for?? Turns out the thing I recommended you either made me so fucking out of it that I burned my BFF’s house down or it did that for me! And_ your _ex-BFF gave me a special drink to get rid of it because I legit cannot take another day of being around it! Hope yours isn’t as completely life-ruining, lol!!!”_ Besides, last he saw him, at the party, he was...well, he looked good. Better than Rich at the time, for sure. And certainly better than Jeremy for the past three years that Rich knew him, hunched over and scared all the time. For the first time since he knew him, he looked comfortable with himself, and Rich knew how good that feeling was. Why take that away when he had no clue whether what happened to Rich was a common thing with Squips? Sure, his backfired, but he never heard of anyone else suffering, and he dealt out a lot of Squips in his high school experience. Plus, he still needed to apologize properly for his behaviour towards him, without the Squip in his head. He wasn’t sure he could talk about anything else without addressing that, the Tic-Tac-sized elephant in the room, or his falling out with Michael. 

That brought him to the headphones kid himself. Michael was an interesting case, but in a good way. He was fun to talk to, even if they only really did so for a day in total. It was natural, just two guys genuinely talking about anything. And listening to him, he realized what a cool guy he was. He was exactly what the Squip would have turned it’s pixelated nose up at, and exactly what Rich wanted to be from then on: comfortable and proud in everything he was, regardless of what others thought. Guilt hung over Rich for the past few days, though, as Rich had come to terms with the toxicity of the Squip and his own behaviour. Like Jeremy, there was still a lot of bad history between them due to his actions. While Rich hoped that he could apologize and maybe make up for the year and a half of bullying if Michael did forgive him, he wasn’t exactly sure how to start. Maybe proving that last night’s conversation wasn’t a one-off thing born of supercomputer-instigated desperation would help. 

After a few deleted conversation starters, he eventually settled and sent something that he figured would interest Michael. 

**(Me): Hey you like weird obscure retro stuff right? Bc boy howdy do I have a thing for you**

The reply came a quarter of the way through the next movie, his phone pinging right as the protagonist had uncovered the aluminum-foiled flying saucer in the woods. Rich unlocked his phone as quickly as his casted up arm would allow. 

**(Michael): i’m intrigued. do tell?**

**(Me): Channel 6 is having a week long sci-fi marathon & they’re so shitty it’s hilarious**

**(Me): This morning there was one w a mutated tomato plant taking over Maine**

**(Michael): oh okay. i’m more of an 80s cult classic dude, but they sound fun to make fun of**

**(Michael): also geez, between that and stephen king, what is it with maine?**

**(Me): Ah k**

**(Me): Also Ikr??? @ Maine what’s with the cheesy spookiness??**

**(Michael): lmao**

**(Michael): no offense but why are you binge watching old scifi movies?**

**(Me): There is literally nothing else to watch except maybe professional curling or local news**

**(Me): Shock of all shocks, the being in the hospital is kinda boring & the selection of activities while fully casted ain’t gr8**

**(Michael): that blows**

**(Me): U can say that again lmao**

**(Me): But like @ least the movies dont fail to be ridiculous lmao**

**(Michael): lmao**

**(Me): Lmao**

**(Me): But lmaos aside yeah my brain might turn to mush**

Rich noticed that the lunch period had definitely ended by now. He figured that it was as good a time as any to get what weighed on his chest off of it. 

****(Me): Hey speaking of brains** **

****(Me): Can I just say thanks again for yesterday & also like** **

****(Me): I’m really sorry for all the shit I pulled with you & Jeremy like teasing you & being a dick in general, especially with the whole gay thing recently & writing “boyfriends” on both of your backpacks. That wasn’t cool of me, it was hurtful and I shouldn’t have made fun of you at all and esp not using sexuality as a joke. I can’t take it back but I want to apologize bc I’m ashamed of how I acted, regardless of the Squip** **

****(Me): Like overall my behaviour towards you two over the past year was really shitty and rude and cruel, & you and Jeremy didn’t deserve it. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you two, Id be more than willing to do it** **

As anticipated, there wasn’t a reply yet. He shut the screen and returned to the movie just in time to catch the spaceman-esque aliens crashing through a drive-in screen and terrifying the stepford locals. He tried to use the unintentional hilarity of the terrible acting and effects to ignore the nervous twist in his stomach. 

Surprisingly, the reply came forty minutes later, much sooner than Rich anticipated considering it was supposed to be in the middle of a class period. It started as a single _ping_ , followed by several more at fairly even intervals. Rich unlocked his phone, reading the increasing number of texts as they filled the screen. 

****(Michael): it’s** **

****(Michael): i don’t want to say that its fine because like** **

****(Michael): it did hurt me** **

****(Michael): like i can’t speak for jeremy but it did hurt a lot for me and it did affect me** **

****(Michael): especially since like** **

****(Michael): ok look i know you dont know but i AM gay and using it as an insult is pretty low** **

****(Michael): even tho like 90% of the school does it still it’s not cool you know** **

****(Michael): i mean it would still be shitty even if i wasn’t gay because being gay isnt an insult but you get where im coming from. feeding into the homophobia at the school is harmful** **

****(Michael): but like** **

****(Michael): i appreciate that you apologized and that you recognize that how crappy your behaviour was** **

****(Michael): and IF you’re gonna change and be a better person i think i can forgive you** **

****(Michael): again, i can’t speak for jeremy, but** **

****(Michael): you seem like a better dude w/out your squip & you seem to understand what you did wrong ** **

****(Me): Thanks Michael, that means a lot to me** **

****(Me): I promise you the new Richard Goranski is gonna change for the better** **

****(Michael): i’ll hold you to it** **

****(Me): Can I ask you something?** **

****(Michael): yeah shoot** **

****(Me): If it’s cool, I’d really like to keep talking to you & make up for the past year & 1/2? ** **

****(Me): If not though I completely understand & I can leave you alone, it’s whatever makes you feel more comfortable** **

Rich’s fingertips worried the bubbled and discolored plastic of his phone case and the cracked screen as he waited for a reply. When one eventually did come, he felt the nervous knot in his stomach untie and settle. 

****(Michael): yeah, i think it’d be cool if we kept talking** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (My extent of 1950-60s sci-fi is A) analogues to it from "Monsters vs Aliens" & B) references to Mystery Science Theatre 3000 I saw from youtube reviewers lmao.) 
> 
> So when I started writing this fic I was like "hey I like the possibilities in this line & hell yeah let's make everyone trans why not" bc like tbh I'm more comfy writing trans characters than cis characters but when I was brainstorming this chap I was thinking about how it might unintentionally feed into some harmful stereotypes? Esp with Rich, since he canonically did bully Jeremy and Michael & possibly others, & I started this fic under the assumption that I'd be following the canon closely & that this is just a behind the scenes special feature with character development and elaboration on potential relationships. I'm a huge fan of people growing and redemption arcs, & I do feel like Rich could be a good guy without the Squip & if he made up for what he did, but I also wanna address that all & help him heal and grow as a character. So in order to this fic to work for me personally as an author, given that closeness to canon & my own experiences with homophobic ppl growing up, I'm gonna have to address some stuff:
> 
> 1\. In this fic Rich didn't have a crush on Michael during sophomore/freshman year. I'm personally really not comfy writing the whole "homophobic bully secretly pining after his gay victim" trope, so any feelings that may develop are gonna be after they are at least friends with each other & Rich proves that those days are behind him. As far as we know it could have just been the boyfs thing but @ the same time it just makes me feel more comfortable this way.  
> 2\. The Squip really enforced compulsive & toxic masculinity & heteronormativity on him and encouraged his shitty behaviour in order to get him to fit in. It also fed on his loneliness from the year before & turned it into resentment of others. It does not excuse his actions, but that is the explanation of why he did it.  
> 3\. Continuing that, the Squip obviously really fucked with his self-image and self-esteem. I personally interpret the Squip as a cross between a cisheteronormative society's expectations of LGBT people and intrusive thoughts (bc hey I experience both) so while Rich did shitty stuff & has to make amends, it wasn't like he had a great year and a half with it rattling around in his head & he's gonna need time to heal & grow from that & also accept himself for who he is, not what others -- or what the Squip convinced him is what others -- want him to be. 
> 
> Again, those points are just my own feelings on my own fic, given my own experiences with homophobia in schools, and something I wanted to lay out before moving forward bc it's been eating at me for awhile. All that said, if you folks, especially my trans mlm readers, don't feel comfortable with this story continuing, or if you have some ideas on how to improve the canon it currently resides in, please let me know. 
> 
> With all that out of the way, thank you so much for sticking around and reading! It means a lot to me that people read my works. Comments are really appreciated, and thank you all for the wonderful feedback! You folks have been really cool and helpful and every time I get a comment and/or kudos it just really brightens my day and keeps me moving forward, so thank you all for it.


	6. Substitute Your Corkboard For A Wall And A Bunch Of Post-Its™ And You’re Good To Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Michael gets a new perspective on how bad Squips can be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [EDIT: Hey, y'all, it's me again. So I've been taking a look at this fic & I'm trying to decide if I can make it a cohesive work, since it seems really jumbled and all over the place from my perspective. I might re-write it or just abandon it and use elements I liked (eg I really want to continue my Christine story arc, I just feel like it's really out of place here and deserves its own fic BC there is so little Christine-centric fics on this site, & I want to look into Jeremy's perspective more in depth BC I feel like having that kind of voice in your head would really fuck you up & I want to explore that), so uh. I guess what I'm asking is what you guys think? Would you be interested if I split the elements into seperate fics & I guess leave this one behind, or would you rather I keep it all in the same fic & try to make it work? Please let me in the comments, as I'm kinda torn rn and would appreciate your input.]
> 
> Hey good news!! I finally got a decent outline of the plot going & my schedule is pretty clear for this week, so you can probably expect another chapter sometime soon! Probably sooner than my usual schedule! Hopefully! 
> 
> Anyway, I've been thinking: what if I ended this fic at the Voices in my Head scene, then picked it up again in another fic where the focus is more on Expensive Headphones as opposed to behind-the-scenes canon of the musical? Pros would be I might be able to start it while still working on this. Would anyone be interested in that, or would you rather I just continue in this fic? Lemme know in the comments below!! 
> 
> Speaking of comments, once again thank you for all the lovely feedback and for sticking around so far! Please let me know what you think of this, especially constructive criticism: I want to make good fics and hearing what you folks have to say will help me improve and grow and make better fics faster!

In a shocking twist of events, Michael’s world continued to go on after Jeremy. Aside from that very awkward quasi-encounter in the hallway -- where he was sure some branch of fate forced his textbook to not fit inside his locker like it usually did -- things had been...normal. 

He’d hoped that something in that distant-exclusively-to-Michael façade of his would have cracked after a few days. Maybe more people would notice, or maybe the apocalypse would actually happen because Michael and Jeremy, inseparable duo since kindergarten, who stuck together even after Michael deleted Jeremy’s almost finished _Super Mario Sunshine_ save file out of spite in the height a petty argument, that power duo, had officially split because Jeremy…

Jeremy realized he could do better. 

But no, life went on. Classes began and ended as usual, the cafeteria still sold subpar food for increasingly ridiculous prices as usual, his math teacher continued to give sparse notes and hand-wave any questions as “well, just look at this example, which I will do without any real explanation and mostly just pointing at numbers and expecting you to get it,” as usual. Point being, Michael was coming to the realization that twelve years of friendship coming to a heartbreaking conclusion meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.

And boy, did that sting. 

He was definitely better than he was yesterday and certainly better than on Sunday, but it still affected him. Honestly, the fact that no one else at school even noticed their schism, save Christine, just made that sense of loneliness even worse. So, Rich texting in the middle of lunch him was a blessing. He wasn't a replacement for Jeremy, but he was fun to talk to and clearly both boys needed someone before they lost their minds from friendless solitude. 

At that moment, Michael was curled up on his bed, propping his head up with one arm and staring down at his phone. The screen, a pair of lava lamps, and the light from the kitchen descending from the stairs were the only sources of light cutting through the comfortable shade in his room. After the shitty day he’d been having, he was satisfied with just lying down in the dim basement, chatting with Rich.

They had picked up their conversation fairly easily after the apology, now minus an unspoken tension hanging above their heads, like that pendulum Edgar Allan Poe wrote about that was slowly coming to slice their budding -- acquaintanceship? Friendship? -- to ribbons (turns out Rich really liked Poe pre-Squip, as he supplied the metaphor. Sure did surprise Michael). Michael still wasn’t sure how he felt about Rich, but if the past few days and conversations have been any indication, he preferred him Squipless. 

Since Michael’s last period was a free one, they only really paused so that Michael could drive home. Once he arrived, Michael headed straight to his bedroom and flopped down onto his mattress, backpack -- and by consequence, homework -- left abandoned at the foot of the stairs. There he stayed for the next two hours, texting Rich. The latter had proposed a game of Twenty Questions in order to get to know each other better, but they eventually lost count and just continued asking each other questions. 

**(Rich): Ok Ok so**

**(Rich): You’re a game-savvy boy, right?**

**(Rich): ( & No that’s not my question, I know u are. It’s rhetorical build-up so wait for it)**

**(Me): lmao k**

**(Rich): So what’s your poison, Mell?**

**(Rich): Console?**

**(Rich): Or ...PC??**

**(Me): plot twist**

**(Me): its both**

**(Rich): ??Srsly?**

**(Me): yeah, tbh i mostly prefer retro games no matter the console, so as long as the game works idc**

**(Rich): Ok but like, which controls do you prefer?**

**(Me): each have pros and cons, i guess. depends on what i’m feeling that day**

**(Rich): Interesting..**

**(Me): ok, my turn now, you’ve had like 10 questions so far**

**(Rich): 6 technically, but sure continue**

**(Me): i know you like fps, but what’s your favourite game?**

**(Rich): Hmmm……..**

**(Rich): Probably Halo**

**(Me): yeah?**

**(Rich): Yea**

**(Rich): It has some p good lore & it’s fun to play w other ppl**

**(Rich): Plus it’s a trip when ur brain is the remote**

**(Me): whoa i can imagine**

**(Me): mind if i ask how that worked?**

**(Rich): My Sqip basically synced up to the Xbox & it like**

**(Rich): It would visualise the game around me? If that’s the right word??**

**(Rich): Like it said it was altering my perception and adding graphics so it really looked like I was in the game, & like it looked even better than the games graphics. Also it would make it so that I was controlling my character w wtv I thought or did**

**(Rich): Like I’d take a step forward & so would game-me, yknow?**

**(Rich): It was fun. Not so much when i died but wtvs**

**(Me): oh yikes, did it recreate your exact death or something?**

**(Rich): Nah not really**

**(Rich): Hindsight?? I think it wanted me to GG bc it would just shock me every time I lost**

**(Me): it shocked you? wtf??**

**(Rich): I mean it wasn’t really that bad it was like yknow a static shock but like it did that everytime I did somehtign it didn’t like anyway so yeah I think it figured me climbing the ranks in Halo would make me cooler**

Michael just stared down at his phone, processing this new information. Now that he thought about it, the way Rich and Jeremy would suddenly straighten up or flinch every so often was becoming alarmingly more understandable. 

**(Me): dude**

**(Rich): Yeah I know**

**(Me): is that a**

**(Me): i wanted to say normal thing but like. is it a thing your squip did pre-malfunctioning or was it just another faulty bit?**

**(Rich): No its def the feature of a healthy Squid, it was a thing ever since I got it**

**(Rich): *Squip !!**

**(Me): jesus**

**(Rich): Same**

**(Rich): Like on 1 hand it got so bad & I got so used to doing what it said that it might as well have eben puppeteering me, inserting words into my mouth, & I was basically 2nd fiddle in my own body**

**(Rich): But on the other hand**

**(Rich): I did get rlly fcking good @ halo tho**

**(Rich): (You can't see it but I'm trying to do finger guns))**

**(Me): at least there’s that…?**

**(Rich): Anyway, point being, its gone now. Ding dong the witch is dead etc etc**

**(Rich): Also, it’s my turn!**

**(Rich): Are there any recent games you’d be into?**

**(Me): well there was**

**(Me): i was p looking forward silent hills before it got**

**(Me): yknow. Cancelled™.**

**(Rich): SAME??**

**(Rich): PT was the scariest thing I played in y e ars**

**(Rich): & It was technically only a trailer!! **

**(Me): it could have been so great**

**(Rich): RIP Silent Hills, you will be missed**

****

**(Rich): So wait!! Aside from that, 0 modern interests??**

********

**(Me): i mean yeah there are some cool things just that was what really stuck out for me**

********** **

**(Me): like obvs, the new star wars movie**

************ ** **

**(Rich): Obvs**

************** ** ** **

**(Me): mad max was cool**

**************** ** ** ** **

**(Me): i liked playing undertale & d&d **

****************** ** ** ** ** **

**(Rich): DND doesnt count, it was made in like the seventies (eighties?? Idk awhil ago)**

******************** ** ** ** ** ** **

**(Me): theres probs other stuff too but not much that’s as cool as like**

********************** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

**(Me): aotd or other nineties stuff, especially with games. idk i just haven’t found any good ones yet**

************************ ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

**(Rich): Well, looks like I’m gonna have to intro u to a bunch of good modern games**

************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

**(Me): yeah that’d be fun**

**************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

**(Rich): Cool cool cool its a date**

****************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

**(Rich): Hey nurses r here, I gtg for a bit, ttyl?**

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

**(Me): yeah sure, later!**

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

When Michael closed his phone, he rubbed his eyes and took a moment to take in what he learned. A Squip could alter perceptions, at least to the point of translating the graphics and mechanics of a video game into the real world. A Squip could shock its host. A Squip _would_ shock it’s host in order to accomplish it’s goals, whatever they may be. A sick feeling grew in the pit of his stomach as his words from Saturday night rung in his ears. 

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

_”We’re talking an insanely powerful super-computer. You really think its primary function is to get you laid? Who made them? How did they end up in a high school?_ In New Jersey? _Of all possible applications for such a mind-blowingly advanced technology, you ever wonder what it’s doing inside_ you _?”_

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

He walked over to his desk, switching the lamp next to his laptop on and sitting down. He opened the drawer, pulling out the stack of Post-Its and peeling them apart, reviewing each and pressing them across the wall the desk was pressed up against. 

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

_WoW buddy’s brother went crazy trying to get it out: Why would he want it out if he was so successful? What did the Squip do?_

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

_Japanese company (-ies??). V little info: WHY? Tech like this should be all over! Lack of press = something shady going on?_

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

_Beta-testing? Why NJ though?? Why teens???_

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

_Why are suppliers @ back of Payless shoes?_

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

_Endgame(s): “improve ppls lives”, spreading tech (who benefits? Company bc $$? Squips?)_

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

_Jer wore EMINEM shirt on the same day as E dying. Coincidence? Did Squip plan it? Did Squip know? EMINEM = Squipped??_

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

_WoW Bro: Flunking → Acing Harvard. Social status unknown. Timespan: 1 semester_

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

_ Rich: Unnoticed freshman → Bully. Teachers love him, made honour roll corkboard-thing. Timespan: 1 summer, @ most_

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

_Jeremy: ~~Self-proclaimed loser~~ Geeky outcast → Hot Shit. Grades: idk. Apparently killing it in play practice. Timespan: 1 day @ school _

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

The last sticky note in his hands was a list at the known abilities of the Squip. It was pitifully short, containing only “tells host what to do”, “reads social moods” and “gets peers and teachers to like you?” He pulled out a pen and added “shocks host” and “alters perceptions” to the list, then stuck it to the center of the array of Post-Its. He sat back, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to calm himself. The evidence, meager as it was, was clear: the Squips were bad news. Out of the three people that he knew had them, one landed himself in a mental hospital and another put his and the lives of others at risk in attempts to get rid of it. The pangs of loneliness, isolation and self-pity he felt over the past few days paled in comparison to the rising worry for his best friend as the truth he had suspected seemed to become more tangible, and he had a feeling that what happened to Rich wasn’t just a “malfunction.” What was the Squip doing to Jeremy? What were its plans for him? 

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Michael could feel his heart race, and he quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket before the fear could consume him. He didn’t realize how shaky his hands were until he fumbled with the passcode for a few times. He took a moment to compose himself, unlock his phone and open his contacts. 

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

He tried Jeremy’s number firstly, but for the millionth time in almost three weeks, he was denied by a voice claiming that the number was “out of service.” He groaned in frustration at this as he opened his keypad and composed the number he hadn’t needed to use in years. 

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

The sound phone ringing filled Michael with relief, and he thanked the universe and whoever was in charge that at least he hadn’t been somehow blocked on this number, too. Luck must have been on his side tonight, as the ringing cut short soon after and was replaced with a familiar voice.

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

“Hello, Heere-residence here,” Jeremy’s dad greeted, tone jovial as usual.

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

“Hey, Mr. Heere, it’s Michael,” he said. “How’s it going?”

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

“I’ve been doing alright!” Mr. Heere said. “How’s it been going with you? Sounds like you and Jeremy have been swamped with homework.”

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

“Actually, that’s why I’m calling,” Michael said. “I actually wanted to know if I could talk to Jeremy?” 

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Mr. Heere paused at this, then slowly asked, “What do you mean, I thought he was with you?” 

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

“No, he’s not,” the dread in his gut grew, and he forced himself to stay calm, if only for Mr. Heere’s sake. “I’m not sure where he is right now, we haven’t exactly been talking. Did he say he was with me?” 

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

“Yeah! He said that you guys had a science project and that he was going to your house for the past...geez, the past two weeks. Do you think he’s okay?”

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Michael hesitated at this, torn between spilling the whole truth as he knew it, both worrying Jeremy’s dad and tipping the Squip off to his knowledge, or just keeping the details to a minimum. 

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

He went with the latter. “He’s...he’s been hanging out with some new friends. They seem alright, it’s just that I haven’t gotten the chance to make plans with him for a bit, and his cell was busy, so I figured I’d try to call your landline. Sorry to bother you, I didn’t realize you had a day off today.” 

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

“I’ve been, uh, working from home recently. Office doesn’t need me there, you know?” Mr. Heere said, tone a little more somber and distant than at the beginning of the call. “I’ll tell him you called when he shows up, okay?”

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

“That would be great, thanks.”

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

They ended the call after a kind of awkward goodbye, and Michael switched back over to his messaging app, typing out a message to Rich and hitting _send_ before he could think twice and regret it. 

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

**(Me): hey, is it okay if i ask you a few things about squips?**

******************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh I had this cute-ish scene where Rich is like "what's ur fave game" & Michael immediately goes "Apocalypse of the Damned", but then I realized...I already wrote that...Which was a shame bc I really wanted to write AotD lore but whatever.
> 
> Also, fun fact, I was really into PT when it came out, & from that came an interest in Silent Hill, which eventually somehow brought me back to musicals, and eventually BMC. Probably. My interests kind of do weird roundabouts.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading and sticking around! Please, please let me know what you think in the comments! Commenting shows me that people actually want me to keep writing, so if you want to see more the best way to do so is to tell me! Plus it just brightens my day! If you leave a comment, 10/10 times I'm over the moon when I see the email notification. Also, if I'm doing something bad or that you don't like, please let me know and I'd be more than happy to fix it. I live for constructive criticism and I want to be a better author. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


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